Never Saw You Coming (Spot Conlon x Reader)

Stories

Spot Conlon swooped through the night sky, over the rooftops of New York. He hadn't gone searching for a long time. Ever since you arrived on the island, in fact. It was high time he made another sweep. He landed on a rooftop, scanning the streets below for any boys sleeping out in the open. Those were usually the ones he brought back; not even a roof over their heads and no life they would mind leaving behind. 

As he looked down the shadowy streets, he became aware of voices. But not adult voices, the kind you would expect to hear late at night. Children's voices. They were coming from-- Spot listened carefully-- inside the building. He poked his head over the side. Yes, there was an open window. Lit by candlelight. It was a girl's voice, mostly. Occasionally one-- no, two boys as well. Spot was about to move on when a particular name caught his ear. Did that girl say... Conlon?

He paused. Yes, she had said his name. And... Lost Boys? Pulitzer? Neverland? Spot listened harder. The girl was weaving a tale so fantastic Spot could hardly believe it-- except for the fact that he had lived it. 

"And so, Pulitzer swore revenge on the brave boys who had dared stand up to him- and in particular, Spot Conlon. The one who had defied him the most of all. Their leader." The girl finished the story. "Now, go to sleep."

"Your stories are the bestest, Wendy." One of the boys said, the younger one. 

"By George, don't you wish Spot Conlon was real?" The other boy said.

Spot took personal offense to this comment, as one is well entitled to do when their existence is questioned. 

"Oh, I do, John. I really really do." The girl- Wendy- sighed. 

Before Spot could think twice, he was floating in front of the half open window, looking into the room beyond. He was mainly intending to prove to the children inside that he was real, but had no more shown himself before the door inside opened. In a flash Spot was on the rooftop again; it was a personal motto of his that only the children who were coming to Neverland with him were allowed to see him. He had bent this rule a few seconds earlier, but conveniently put it out of his mind at that moment. 

"Good night my darlings." A woman's voice; their mother, no doubt. Spot didn't miss his mother. She was tall, at least she was when he knew her, and made him take baths, and bandaged his scrapes, and told stories. Stories like the ones that that girl had been telling, full of pirates and adventures and things. But Spot didn't miss his mother. 

(in case my reading-between-the-lines-writing isn't very good he really really misses his mother)

"Mother, there was a boy in the window!" The youngest boy said. Ah, so they had seen him. At least the little one.

"Was there dear?" The mother said absentmindedly, before bidding a final goodnight and turning the kerosene lamps low.

No sooner had she done so then a pattering of feet and the head of a small boy poking out of the window. Spot was too high and too in the shadows to be seen by him though. 

"Michael, what are you doing? Don't stick your head out the window like that, you could fall." Wendy said in a motherly sort of way.

"But I saw him." Michael insisted. 

"I did too." John added, sticking his head next to Michael's.

"Yes- so did I- but- it couldn't've been-" Wendy was jumbling fragments as she joined her brothers. 

Spot was regretting this. But he couldn't exactly leave now, could he? Not with them still unsure of his existence. So he drifted down lazily, hands on his hips and chin high, ignoring the startled gasps and cut off cries from the amazed children.

"It is you? Conlon- Spot Conlon?" John asked, amazed.

"'Course." Spot said. "Who else would it be?"

"I told you he was real! I told you, I told you-" Michael sang, dancing in circles. 

"Right. Well anyways, I'd bettah get goin'..." Spot trailed off, watching Michael with a bemused expression. Usually the younger Lost Boys were taken care of by Race or Mush or... someone. Not him.

"Going? Where are you going?" Wendy said, breaking her silence.

"Uh, back ta Nevahland, prob'ly." Spot said. Maybe he would find a kid or two to bring back on the way out, but he was overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. Something that that mother of theirs had done, with the 'good nights' and the dampening the light. 

"Neverland!" The three chorused in unison, their eyes growing wide. 

"Take us with you?" Which one said it, Spot didn't know, but he could tell they were all thinking it. This was not what he had planned for. He didn't take the ones with families. That wasn't how it worked.

"Please, Mr. Conlon?" Michael said, looking up at Spot. Spot fought the quirk of his mouth at the name. 

"Call me Spot, kid." He said offhandedly. "Why should I take you?" He addressed mainly the older two. "Can you fight? Scout? Swim? Fly?" 

With each subsequent shake of their heads the children looked more down heartened. 

Until the little one spoke up again. "Wendy can tell awful good stories."

The stories. "'Bout what?" Spot said, careful to not seem too eager. 

"Anything! Pirates, mermaids, fairies, aliens-" Wendy said. She had no qualms with showing her eagerness.

"Cammibals." Michael added.

"Cannibals." John whispered to him. "That was one time and she's not allowed to tell it again since it gave you nightmares."

"It did not." Michael protested.

"Please?" Wendy said, clasping her hands in front of her.

Spot thought the matter over. Occasionally he had wondered what it was like, for the younger boys especially, to not have a mother. Perhaps they would like one... a sort of surrogate. There was you, of course, but you were more of a sisterly figure. Also, you were his. 

He became aware that the three in front of him were waiting with bated breath.

"Fine." Spot said eventually. Their faces lit up with joy as Spot pulled the pouch of dust off his belt and tossed some onto them with none of his usual ceremony. He was beyond tired, and just wanted to get back. Back to Neverland, back to his cabin... back to you.

As the three new recruits trailed behind him, Wendy holding Michael's hand tightly, he had a thought. Where would they stay?

He decided that either you and Wendy could stay in your cabin and John and Michael in his, or he could put the three siblings in either your or his cabins and the two of you could take the other. He much preferred the second option. 

"So how many people? On Neverland?" Wendy asked Spot. 

"There's about 15 right now." Spot said. "Me, Blink, Mush, Race... an' Y/N o' course."

"Y/N?" 

"Me goil." Spot smiled. He hadn't gotten to say those words much, but he loved the sound of them. He missed, however, the sharper look that had swept over Wendy's face.

Wendy said nothing more the rest of the flight. But Michael kept up a storm of practically nonstop chatter. To his surprise Spot found himself enjoying the young boy's talking.

Soon enough they found themselves back on Neverland. A crowd of Lost Boys awaited Spot's arrival, and noises of surprise sounded when they saw his companions. And at the forefront of this crowd, and one of the first to be surprised, stood you.